


Cloud Watch

by howelllesters



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bullying, Diary/Journal, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Food mention, M/M, Mild Language, Mostly Fluff, Pastel Dan, Pastel Dan and Punk Phil, Punk Phil, Teenagers, alcohol mention, my god how many tags, nothing too graphic, violence mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-08-11 09:54:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7886566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howelllesters/pseuds/howelllesters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I asked for people to leave words in my askbox so I could write a mini phanfic. existentiall-crisiss didn’t play fairly, and left me ‘clouds’. Or, pastel!Dan hates his new journal but writes in it anyway, and accidentally just ends up recording his feelings on punk!Phil, in a suitably melodramatic way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cloud Watch

_dear diary,_

Mum said she was going to get me a new journal soon, so of course I didn’t buy a new one when mine ran out. Except I asked for a leather one, or a silver one like the last notebook I had, and instead she bought me this. It’s bright blue, and covered in clouds. I feel like I should be writing about the weather, not my feelings. Apparently she bought it because it matched my new shoes. I guess that’s kind of sweet, but I’m still confused. Who matches their shoes to their journal? I don’t know when I’ll next get into town to buy a replacement either. Ugh.

cloud watch: there are a few clouds, but there are also blue patches. like my brain… cloudy and confused. ha. stop.

—

_dear diary,_

Phil Lester smiled at me again today. It was in English, fifth period, but when I went to smile back, I tripped over a table, which probably ruined everything. I didn’t fall over, but I have the biggest bruise on my leg, and it absolutely wrecks. Dad even asked why I was limping. Anyway, I don’t know if he noticed, but it was still embarrassing. Phil’s smiled at me three times now, and he only started a month ago. I feel like this is good, especially because he doesn’t look like he smiles very often. Usually he just looks angry. I don’t think the eyeliner helps. I don’t think we’re allowed to wear make-up, but he doesn’t even wear his blazer, so I don’t think he cares too much.

cloud watch: there are no clouds at all. the sky is bright blue, like phil’s eyes. i need a new notebook.

—

_dear diary,_

I got sent home after lunch today because someone punched me so hard my nose cracked. I don’t see why I got sent home early when I’m the one who got punched, but whatever, I don’t mind. Mum was home, and we decided it probably wasn’t broken, just painful. I’m not sure if I should be worried that neither of us are surprised when this happens at this point. On the bright side, it makes the bruise on my leg feel like nothing. On the less bright side, I have a black eye and a nose that keeps bleeding on and off. Blood literally just dropped onto this page. It doesn’t look very nice against the cloud in the corner of each page.

Mum thinks I should stop wearing earrings to school. I told her I’d compromise and just wear small black studs for a while.

cloud watch: writing this at night, because I’ve been lying on the sofa with an ice pack for hours. there are no clouds, so i can see stars. for the second time today.

—

_dear diary,_

Everyone is avoiding me more than usual since the punch. I don’t get why, because this happens almost weekly, but I guess when it’s on my face, I look even worse than normal. Should have stayed home like I did yesterday. I don’t mind much, because I have my earphones, and I’m alternating between doing homework and writing in here, but lunch kind of sucks when no one will even sit at your table. It’s not even

—

Phil Lester just sat down at my table. I’m going to have to write about this later when my hand stops shaking.

—

_dear diary,_

Phil didn’t stay at my table very long, but he did slide into the seat next to me for nearly two whole minutes. At first I thought he was going to finish what was started the day before last, because I’m pretty sure he’s become friends with the guy who punched me, so I may have shuffled my chair away a little, but then he smiled, so it seemed okay.

Anyway, he just wanted to see if I was alright. I nearly fainted. And then I pointed out that I was fine but my face looked hideous, and he laughed, told me it didn’t, smiled at me with his tongue sticking out, which showed his tongue piercing, and then wandered off again. I smiled at him but then nearly cried because it hurt my nose too much. Why is my life like this? Today’s been weird.

cloud watch: the skies are grey and i looked straight into the sun when i checked. the sun isn’t even out. i hate the world.

—

_dear diary,_

It’s been a month and I still haven’t replaced this stupid notebook. I don’t even have anything to say right now, I opened it just to note down the weather. What is happening to me?

cloud watch: the sky is orange and purple and the clouds are pink. my aesthetic. i really want a new jumper the colour of the pink actually.

—

_dear diary,_

Phil Lester added me as a friend, so I stalked his profile, obviously. I thought he looked terrifying at school, with his untucked shirt and rolled up sleeves, standard issue trousers that somehow look skinny on him, but that’s nothing compared to him at the weekend. His display picture is of him leaning against a motorbike wearing all black, a leather jacket, huge boots, and there’s a blue streak in his fringe. He’s got two eyebrow piercings and a lip piercing too, which I think he takes out for school. I don’t know why I’m writing all this down, he just looks really good. My display picture is me and my dog wearing matching flower crowns. I feel like I need to change it.

cloud watch: my blind is closed and i can’t be bothered to open it. no cloud watch today. i really need a new journal.

—

_dear diary,_

Most of our English class is missing today because of a Geography field trip, so we’re allowed to sit where we want. I’m in the back corner so I can

—

_dear diary,_

Phil Lester sat next to me in English and asked to read what I was writing. I can’t really remember what happened but I definitely squeaked at some point. I hope that when I die, someone publishes this thing, so at least one person can gain some fortune from my sheer misery, and very awkward life.

cloud watch: WHO CARES ABOUT CLOUDS. WHY AM I DOING THIS? (they’re white and fluffy)

—

_dear diary,_

I forgot to fill you in on what actually happened yesterday. Phil sat next to me, and after the initial embarrassment over me hiding this notebook - seriously need a new one, I can’t keep taking clouds to school - he seemed pretty cool. Terrifying, but okay. Someone came to sit near us and I think he growled at them, but I’m not sure? It was kind of weird. They moved though, which I didn’t mind. I think at this point, I can admit that I do have a bit of a crush on him, but that’s it. I’m pretty sure Phil Lester isn’t the sort of person who is going to date someone who records what the clouds are doing in his journal, has some brand new grey skinny jeans and a lilac vest top arriving in the post tomorrow, and secretly has curly hair.

cloud watch: grey, with a slight hint of purple. i think this is a sign that my parcel will arrive on time.

—

_dear diary,_

It’s finally half-term, which means I can spend a week sleeping until lunchtime, watching anime or playing video games until three in the morning, and then repeating that routine the day after. We got reports, and my English teacher’s comment was that if I spent more time writing in my exercise book and less time writing in my ‘cloud book’, my grades would probably improve. This was mostly annoying because now my mum knows I use this journal, and she won’t stop laughing, because I made such a big fuss of how much I disliked it at first. What is life.

cloud watch: cloud book is such a disrespectful term, it makes it sound like i just write about clouds. the clouds are white today, but not very thick, like cotton wool when you go to tear a big piece off but it doesn’t work and just sticks to your fingers.

—

_dear diary,_

Today is the last day of the holiday. On Monday I have to go back to school uniform, which is irritating, because I bought new canvas pumps yesterday and I want to wear them all the time. They’re like slippers, honestly, so comfortable. And they’re peach. Mum likes them. Dad raised an eyebrow, but he always does when I buy pumps, because he says they’re cheap and rubbish. He’s such an old man. Suppose I should get some homework done.

At least I can see Phil tomorrow. Maybe I should stop writing about Phil so much. I don’t know him very well, and I don’t ever write about anyone else. Not that I have many friends, but still.

cloud watch: thought the sky was going to turn peach like my shoes, but it’s pink. feeling betrayed.

—

_dear diary,_

This half-term we’re doing partner work in English and I’ve been paired with Phil Lester. My heart is beating really fast, and I don’t know if I’m scared or excited. Or maybe I’m just dying, time will tell.

—

_dear diary,_

I’m not dead. Phil Lester has started sitting with me in the free second period we share though, so I may as well be. I can’t write in here for starters, and I also always manage to look like an idiot in front of him. Today he complimented my new silver star earrings, so I got shy and fiddled with them, and then succeeded in pushing the star right back through the hole in my ear. I don’t even know what face I pulled, but it was somewhere between panic and horror and am I going to be sick, and then it started bleeding, and then Phil started laughing loads, and basically, I wish I was actually dead. He sat there so we could work on the English stuff together, but in the end we got nothing done, because he spent the whole time just laughing at me.

And I lost my earring.

cloud watch: what is the point. why can’t i be a cloud? clouds literally cannot have an awkward life. though i’d probably manage it. i wouldn’t get the memo that it was a purple night, and i’d just be there, pink, and all the other clouds would laugh at me. i really need a new notebook, i think i’m going insane.

—

_dear diary,_

Phil sat next to me at lunch, and it went better. Not that that’s hard, because I didn’t shove a piece of metal through my flesh today, so… We decided which parts of the book we’d each analyse, and we’re meeting in the library tomorrow after school to start putting the presentation together. Turns out Phil is really hard-working, which you wouldn’t guess from looking at him. When you look at him, he just looks like he’s going to hit you. I still don’t know why I fancied him from the first day he started, but here we are. And when we decided on the library, he said ‘it’s a date’, which was really cheesy, but I still blushed. So embarrassing.

cloud watch: grey-blue skies with regular clouds. boring stuff.

—

Phil has a tattoo and he showed it to me. That is all.

—

_dear diary,_

The top of Phil Lester’s right arm is covered in swirling black lines, that ink out a night sky with stars and a moon and some planets, and they just fade into pretty patterns, and I don’t even know what we discussed in the stupid library because Phil distracted me. He has a tattoo, which he faked his dad’s signature to get. I don’t even know how I got to see it, I just saw black peek out when he stretched and his sleeve hitched up - the noise he pulled when he stretched was sinful - so I told him the pen in his pocket had leaked and then he just smirked and showed me. Why am I like this? Why is he like this? I may as well come to school with all of my flower crowns on at once and be done with it.

cloud watch: the night sky looks rubbish now that i’ve seen it in tattoo form on phil lester’s right arm. (there are no clouds, but the moon looks misty, and nearly full. spooky.)

—

_dear diary,_

For the first time ever, I think the person who beat me up today regrets it. In hindsight, if I hadn’t worn my new bracelet, we could have avoided this mess, but I knew Phil would sit with me in second period, so… Except I never made it to second period, because on my way to the common room, a couple of boys from the year above cornered me in the corridor, and the rest was pretty standard practice. Until Phil somehow saw what was happening, and stormed out into the corridor.

Now we’re all sat in detention, which I definitely don’t understand, but whatever. I’ve got a split lip, which I keep licking to taste the blood, which I guess is kind of weird, and every time I move an inch, it feels like I’m being punched all over again. The guy who beat me up looks way worse, and I’m pretty sure Phil managed to give the other a black eye before I asked him to stop. Phil looks flawless, obviously. As soon as I got up, he just ignored them, making sure I was okay and helping me get to the nurse for an ice pack.

I think the tutor in this room thinks I’m doing my homework, like we’re meant to be, but I’m writing in here. I don’t know why, but I feel like I need to write this down. Someone rescued me, and it made me feel weird, but a nice weird. I’m light on my feet, even though I may be dying of internal bleeding. And Phil has promised to buy me a new bracelet.

We’re a little past the crush stage.

cloud watch: the sky is that weird white-grey where you can’t tell if it’s all cloud or no clouds.

—

_dear diary,_

Phil walked me home after detention, and today he rushed straight over to me in English to see if I was okay, and then handed me a brand new bracelet, which is practically identical to the one that snapped yesterday.

We’re a lot past the crush stage.

cloud watch: blue skies. slightly darker than phil’s eye colour.

—

_dear diary,_

I just got home from Phil’s house. We met up to go over the presentation, because it’s due on Monday. I think my mum nearly collapsed when I told her I was going to someone’s house on a weekend. Well, just going to someone’s house actually. The concept of me having friends is quite a foreign one in this household. Phil’s bedroom isn’t very Phil at all - it’s all blue and green, and there are posters up everywhere, and his mum is really sweet and baked us chocolate chip cookies? I didn’t meet his dad, but he looked friendly in the photos. I don’t know how Phil ended up like he did, but I’m glad.

cloud watch: it’s midnight, so the sky is pitch black. like phil’s jacket.

—

_dear diary,_

The presentation went well. Phil offered to take me out for lunch to celebrate. It took me a good five minutes to remember that he had a motorbike, and that sixth formers are allowed to drive to school, I’m just boring. Probably looked like an idiot, and even more so when I said no and then just sat down with my cheese sandwich. Phil snuck into the common room just as the bell rang with the remains of a burger and some Coke. If he ever asks me to lunch again, I will make sure my head is screwed on this time.

cloud watch: no one cares.

—

_dear diary,_

Well it’s been a while. Okay, so just over three weeks, but it feels like forever. The guy who punched me in the nose before came back for round two, and I ended up against the lockers after PE. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t the size of a munchkin and about as strong as one too, because just once it would be nice if I could fight back. Instead, he shoved my head against the metal so hard, I nearly passed out, and then twisted my arm weirdly. I don’t think he actually meant to do that, because when I screamed in pain, he jumped a mile. That was funny for about a second, until suddenly Phil appeared, from like, nowhere. Anyway, I got a sprained wrist, and he got a broken hand. He won’t tell anyone who did it, it’s quite funny.

Ever since, Phil won’t leave me alone. I’m not complaining, of course. He just looked at me in despair after the sprained wrist incident, but I was only half with it, so it didn’t really register. He just helped me to my feet really carefully and then walked me home. I didn’t even realise that he’d have to walk to mine and then all the way back to school to get his bike before he could get home. I dread to think what I said on that journey, but I was definitely less than coherent. I can remember how alarmed my mum looked when she opened the door to Phil, but seemed to realise fairly quickly that if he’d been the one to leave me looking like that, he probably wouldn’t have walked me home.

So Phil sits next to me in English permanently, and in every free we share, not just that second period one, and tomorrow he asked me if I wanted to go out for lunch and I actually agreed. And I have a free fourth. If I was more interesting, I’d be tempted to skip fifth period and just spend the afternoon with Phil, but I’m not. I’m me, and so I’ll go and suffer through Maths.

cloud watch: autumn is disappearing. the clouds are kind of grey. miserable.

—

_dear diary,_

Lunch with Phil was an experience. He ate a twenty pack of chicken nuggets, a double hamburger and a large fries, but decided he couldn’t manage all of his chicken wrap. He then proceeded to nearly down his large Coke in one. I had half a chicken burger and a strawberry milkshake. Phil thought that was cute. I was just kind of in awe. It was awkward, but still nice, and I still don’t think Phil has smiled at anyone the way he smiles at me. Last week I heard he made a year nine cry, but that might have just been a rumour.

cloud watch: is this a cloud journal, or one giant love note to phil lester? who knows. remember the days when i used to actually write about my feelings, and not just about the boys i liked?

—

_dear diary,_

Phil’s about to stop by and pick me up. We’re going to the cinema together. It’s weird, and my parents are just as freaked out as I am, but they’re trying to be supportive. It’s very cute. I’m wearing my peach pumps, but I’m not sure they’re

—

The peach pumps were a mistake. It rained, and now my feet are cold. But Phil Lester kissed me, so?

—

_dear diary,_

Maybe clouds aren’t so bad after all, because I might be floating on one right now.

Phil Lester kissed me. We walked out of the film - which I don’t even remember now - and he just pulled me close, pressed his lips to mine, and then insisted we go grab some food. He tasted of popcorn and peppermint and loveliness, and of everything that might have happened, that wasn’t what I expected.

cloud watch: from where i’m sat, all looking quite fluffy.

—

_dear diary,_

Apparently it was obvious Phil was asking me on a date, and he assumed I’d realised that when I said yes. I hadn’t, obviously. He keeps laughing at me. I don’t know if I like him at all, but then he gave me another bracelet, one of his own, so I might forgive him.

cloud watch: phil’s eyes are very pretty up close. they’ve got green and yellow in them as well as blue, and his hands are very soft when he holds mine.

—

_dear diary,_

I’m currently sat on Phil’s bed while he’s downstairs getting us drinks, and maybe hyperventilating because he just punched me by accident on purpose and I started crying, mostly with laughter, but he just thought I was in pain. I’m meant to be round here watching the prequel to the film we saw in the cinema last week, but before we started it, Phil just turned on me and asked why I insisted on getting into so many fights. I tried to point out that it wasn’t my fault, but whatever. So I think, in his own weird way, he was trying to help, but in an attempt to make me fight back, he just completely took me out with one fist to my stomach, and I crashed backwards into his desk, and it was… well, it was awkward, like every other encounter I have with Phil Lester.

So Phil picked me up, which was horrifying, and I’ve asked him never to do it again, and set me on the bed, and I think we can both agree that in future, Phil can just continue to fight for me because I’m no good at it, but he may have broken three of my ribs. Okay he’s coming back upstairs.

cloud watch: grey skies.

—

_dear diary,_

I have been to Phil’s house three times now, and we’ve kissed once more since the date that I didn’t realise was a date. I like Phil’s house, especially when he doesn’t beat me up. I won’t stop saying that, and he’s starting to get annoyed. I like annoying him, and I like that I’m the only one who can get away with it. Today in English, someone irritated him so he snapped their pen in half and threw it out of the window without even blinking.

He wanted to know what I was writing in here today, but I refused to show him. He asked me about five times until I swore at him, which surprised us both. I didn’t realise I was so protective over a stupid book with clouds on the front cover.

cloud watch: still grey skies. boring.

—

_dear diary,_

Phil just left my house, which was fun and weird in equal measure. Fun, because I’ve decided that hanging around with Phil is just the best thing to do. Weird, because I can’t remember the last time I had someone over to my house, and Mum doesn’t know what to do with herself. She’s cooked so much food, it’s embarrassing, especially because Phil and I already took off for lunch earlier.

Food drama aside though, we finally watched the film he wanted us to see the other day - it was very dull - and then I painted our nails. His are black, mine are pink. He said they’re cute. I’m falling in love.

cloud watch: grey grey grey.

—

_dear diary,_

Phil and I are officially seeing each other. I don’t even know what means if I’m honest, but he seemed pretty happy when I agreed to it. Now I’m round at his and we’re getting ready for a sixth form social, and I want to

—

The social was as horrendous as expected. Currently shivering in bed with a mug of tea and an ice pack.

—

_dear diary,_

I told Phil, I told him that socials and I didn’t mix well. I went to the very first one, before Phil joined the school, and I’d already decided to myself that I wasn’t going to be miserable like I was all through school, I was going to wear what I wanted, and my mum was all smiles until I came home with a black eye for wearing pink shoes. I don’t go out with my year, and I don’t want to, and it’s fine.

Phil insisted though, promised he’d be there for me, but then I lost him, because the stupid year reps booked a club that was far too small for us all, and there were so many people, and if anyone’s going to be shoved around it’s me. So I ended up with my face pressed against the bathroom tiles, and this time I did end up crying to Phil, little sniffles in the taxi home as he held me tightly and the taxi driver kept glaring at him because he wasn’t wearing a seatbelt. Tragic.

cloud watch: it’s a really clear night. phil made me look up as he helped me to my house, to try and calm me down. and then he gave me a really gentle kiss, so i guess it’s not all bad.

—

_dear diary,_

Sorry that it’s been- nearly a month, we’ve had so many exams, but I think I’ve scraped through. Why am I apologising to an inanimate object? Today was the last day, so Phil and I are both free, and now that he is my official boyfriend, we have an official date tonight and everything. I even bought a new flower crown, which is purple, so now I have three. I’m a bit too excited over this. I want to have one in every colour eventually.

cloud watch: the sky is blue but it lies. i’m freezing.

—

_dear diary,_

I’m currently in Phil’s bed. I just need to remember this.

—

_dear diary,_

I didn’t mean to spend the whole night with Phil after our date, but we went back to his once we’d eaten and it got so late and his parents were out, so it just seemed like a good idea. We didn’t do anything but kiss, but it was so nice, and then Phil fell asleep on me, and I sound so pathetic but I don’t care, because I’m so happy. My dad keeps laughing at me for smiling while I write this stuff down.

cloud watch: it’s just normal black tonight, but yesterday it went bright red as it was setting and phil laughed at how excited i got. bad times.

—

_dear diary,_

Phil got invited to a party and he took me along. It was full of a bunch of people who looked like he did, and it was hazy there was so much smoke. I lasted ten minutes before someone laughed at me, which was fine, because I’d kind of been expecting it, but then someone made a comment about my pumps, and everyone snickered, loudly. Phil didn’t hear because he was in another room. I just told him I felt sick and went home. He looked worried, but just nodded, and made sure I got in the taxi okay.

I want to cry, but that would be stupid, so I refuse to.

I don’t even care about people laughing at me at this point, it’s just something I’m used to, but now I feel like I’ve embarrassed Phil, and the worst part is that he didn’t even know.

I didn’t feel sick when I left, but I do now. Even my mum could tell something was wrong when I got home early, but I just headed for the shower. My peach shoes are staring at me.

—

_dear diary,_

Phil keeps asking me why I’m quiet. I’m sleeping over at his again tonight, but I can’t sleep. He finally fell asleep about half an hour ago. I can’t stop thinking about the party last week.

—

_dear diary,_

I know how to fix this, and I feel better already. I’ve decided that

—

Okay Mum came upstairs to see what the noise was - me falling off a chair - and think it’s a stupid idea, but she could see my reasoning. I feel like anything that reduces the risk of her son getting beaten up is probably okay in her eyes. So all of my earrings and flower crowns and stuff are in a box that’s now under my bed, and I’ve thrown all of my bright shoes to the back of my wardrobe, and dug out the old grey ones that still look acceptable, I think. I’ve kept my blue and green tshirts, because they seem okay, but the rest are under the bed too. The only thing I’ve left in are my black earrings, because I feel like they’re acceptable too. I’ve also switched my galaxy backpack for the plain grey messenger bag my nan got me three Christmases ago.

It feels kind of weird, but I don’t want to humiliate Phil, and it would be quite nice not to be laughed at for once. I just want him to see that I’m serious about him, and we can work. I’m so scared his friends have already told him what they think of me though.

cloud watch: it’s been raining all day long.

—

_dear diary,_

Phil keeps looking at me weirdly, and I don’t know if I’ve done something wrong. I think maybe I haven’t done this right. I might leave the earrings at home tomorrow too.

cloud watch: we had blue sky for about a second, and then it went grey again. much cloud.

—

_dear diary,_

I am writing to you from my bed, as I have a wonderful case of food poisoning. I think I’m going to die. Maybe.

—

_dear diary,_

Still in bed. Mum thinks I’m being a drama queen. She is correct. Phil hasn’t texted me once, so something’s definitely wrong. This is so typical of me, to finally get what I want and then ruin it all without even realising.

cloud watch: haven’t opened my blind in two days.

—

_dear diary,_

I don’t think Phil is angry at me, because he just invited me to another party this weekend. Maybe he was just having a bad week. Whatever. He was excited to see me back at school anyway. Also he’s lost his phone charger. And it started raining and I only had my blazer, so he let me have his jacket, which I will keep for as long as I can get away with it.

Today he kissed me in the corridor, and everyone stared, and a teacher yelled. He laughed and ran away, and I went bright red, and ran with him. I think it was a good thing, but I still told him not to do it again.

In better news, someone cornered me after PE again today, but then just let it drop when there was nothing about my appearance they could make fun of. I think this is a sacrifice I should’ve made before now.

cloud watch: so much rain.

—

_dear diary,_

Okay, maybe Phil is angry at me, because he’s being weird again.

I can’t believe I brought this notebook with me. Who brings a notebook to a party? Me, and that shows how much I do not belong here.

I’m hiding in one of the upstairs bedrooms, because this is my worst nightmare.

There are people everywhere, and Phil seems to know everyone, and I know no one. I think they’re his friends from his old school, but I’ve seen a few familiar faces go past, so I have no clue. It just seems to be a mass of seventeen and eighteen year olds from around here, and there’s three different drinking games happening, and spin the bottle in the living room, and one of the toilets is already out of use.

I tried really hard to fit in, so Phil wouldn’t be embarrassed to be seen with me. I bought new black jeans, and figured I could get away with a light grey tshirt if I wore his leather jacket. My hair isn’t fully straightened, and I thought I looked okay, even if I looked nothing like myself. Phil just frowned when he opened the door though, which wasn’t what I’d been hoping for.

Now I’ve been sat up here for two hours by myself, and I don’t even know if Phil has noticed I’ve gone. I’m scared he’s going to start thinking we don’t work together anymore.

—

Dear Dan,

I can’t believe you brought your notebook to a party, you dork. Please don’t kill me for writing in this, but you’re absolutely terrible at talking face to face sometimes, so this seems like a better way to do things. Currently you’re passed out in my bed, because someone offered you a drink at that party and you accepted it, which is fine, but then you started on shots, you idiot.

I may have read the last few things you wrote. Of course I noticed you were gone. Truthfully, I thought you’d gone home. You just disappeared, and no one had seen you, and I was so confused. I thought you were mad at me, or you were trying to put me off you or something (not going to happen, for the record).

Please go back to looking like Dan. I don’t know what’s happened over the last few weeks, but you seem less colourful, and you smile less too. You stood out to me the minute I joined this school, and it’s taken you long enough to realise that. Of course I don’t just like you for the way you look, but when you wear those little heart earrings, or that lilac jumper, or that goddamn flower crown, you’re irresistible.

Don’t hate me for this. I just know you won’t want to talk about this in the morning, but I can’t stand to see you looking so miserable and uncomfortable by trying to be someone else.

Cloud Watch: I love the sight of the night sky, but it’s nothing compared to you asleep next to me right now. Night, Dan.

—

_dear diary,_

I got a new notebook! It’s grey leather, with a little star imprint in the corner. It’s lined, has a little folder at the back, and best of all, it doesn’t have Phil Lester’s writing in it. In fact, this will be the only mention of that name at all.

I’m going back to writing about the stuff that matters, and not people who don’t understand boundaries, or privacy, or anything. Stuff like feelings. Mine currently switch between anger and hurt at regular intervals, occasionally broken up by sobbing. Mum just brings me up a hot chocolate every time this happens, and then sits hugging me, telling me it’s going to be okay and that I’ll find someone else. I just nod and sniffle to her, and try and forget I’m seventeen years old and I really ought to get a grip.

unread text count: 23

—

_dear diary,_

Sorry that it’s been a while. Guess I just haven’t felt like writing anything lately. I did nothing this holiday, but instead of satisfying, it just felt boring. And now it’s back to school tomorrow. Yay.

unread text count: 106

—

_dear diary,_

Okay, I thought I’d last longer than a day before something happened. I’m not even sure why, because I haven’t worn earrings, or bracelets, or anything remotely ‘different’ since I put it all away. Just because I’m not dressing differently for someone else now, doesn’t mean I want to stop. It’s been quite nice not living in fear at school. Anyway, that’s ruined now too.

I’m currently sat in bed, because I’ve been sent home early. I don’t know if I have a cracked rib, but I haven’t told Mum. She’d only flap. The worst part was that I was expecting someone to come and help me, and they didn’t.

Only a year and a half left until uni. Can’t come fast enough.

unread text count: 145

—

_dear diary,_

Phil’s still sat next to me in English, which is infuriating. I think he’s watching me write in this right now, but I don’t even care at this point. Apparently that’s just acceptable behaviour for him, to go snooping through people’s personal belongings, not giving a damn about their feelings or

—

Phil and I had a huge argument after school. It was raining, and now I’m freezing. I think I started crying, but hopefully he didn’t notice. Now I’m just sat on my floor, and I haven’t changed out of my wet school uniform, and I’ve emptied all of my boxes around me, so I’m just sat here holding my flower crowns and I feel so

—

_dear diary,_

Things must be bad if my mum is sending my dad up to talk to me. He made me get up and take a shower, which was probably for the best, because I was shivering. I think him and Mum tidied up my room while I was gone, because when I got back, everything was back in its box, and just sat on my bed, and my school uniform was gone.

Now I’m curled up in bed and I feel like an idiot. I want things to go back to how they were at the start of the year, when the only reason I had to feel like an idiot was walking into a table in front of Phil. Instead my parents have seen me cry over a boy. Tragic.

It’s still raining outside.

—

Dear Dan,

Talk to me?

—

What is your problem with reading other people’s diaries?

—

Not reading this time. Just want to talk to you.

—

This book isn’t for passing notes.

—

Well you won’t talk to me any other way. This is the most you’ve said to me in weeks.

—

Maybe I don’t want to talk to you.

—

Dan, don’t be an idiot.

—

_dear diary,_

Phil won’t

—

You can glare at me all you want, but we need to talk. I’m not giving you this back until we do.

—

_dear diary,_

Seeing as Phil stole my grey journal a week ago and refuses to give it back, I guess we’re back to the clouds for a while. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him. I hate him more now than when he first stole my diary and wrote in it. He made me feel like an idiot then, but that’s nothing compared to now. I thought I was making him happy, and he just threw it back in my face.

I feel like I can’t trust him, and I think that’s the worst part.

cloud watch: thunder and lightning. the clouds are nearly black. fitting.

—

_dear diary,_

Phil is asleep on my bed. He’s wearing the biggest tshirt I could find and some sweats that have always been too long for me. He looks really small and sad, and I don’t know what I’m meant to do to fix

—

Dear Dan,

This is the last time I’ll write in your diary, I promise. I tore this page out of the back so I wouldn’t see anything else. You were asleep this morning and I didn’t want to disturb you, but your mum knows I’ve left. I’ll bring your clothes to school on Monday. Thank you for putting up with me last night.

I’m sorry I stole your other journal. I promise I didn’t read it. I just thought it would make you talk to me, but that was a stupid plan. I’m sorry I wrote in your other one. I thought it was a good idea at the time, but I guess not. I never meant to offend you though, I just wanted to get in your head a little bit, because you’re always so quiet, but one day you just completely changed, and I was worried you weren’t okay.

I don’t know what happened, but I have a horrible feeling you tried to change for me, but please don’t, okay? I know we’re very, very different, but that’s why I like you. I saw you got your flower crowns out again, and I always thought that was when you looked best, and your happiest, like the first time we kissed.

Sorry I screwed things up.

Love, Phil

—

_dear diary,_

So Phil came round to give me my other journal, and I have no idea why, because there was a full-on storm. I don’t think he’d even been home after school, because he was still wearing his school uniform. By the time he reached mine he was soaked through, and he wasn’t even wearing a jacket. I think I still have his jacket actually.

Mum dragged him in before I even realised who was at the door. Phil cried this time, and I didn’t have a clue what to do, but then he took the dry clothes I offered him and passed out in my bed, so that solved that problem. By the time I woke up, he was gone, and my parents just gave me a look this morning over breakfast. Honestly, I thought they’d hate Phil, with all his eyeliner and tattoos and lack of privacy considerations, but apparently they’re on his side, as if he’s the only who’s cried.

cloud watch: why would i be looking at the clouds at a time like this?

—

I’m sorry. Thanks for bringing my notebook over.

—

You’re welcome. I’m sorry too. I promise I didn’t

—

I know

—

The fact you have a black scrawl across one of your pages is entirely your own fault, I wasn’t done writing

—

Well

—

_dear diary,_

I didn’t get to finish my note to Phil because our English teacher caught us passing notes, and now we’re sat in detention together. Again. I’m glad I’m not injured this time though, the time goes a lot faster.

I think Phil’s planning to walk me home, so we’ll see how this goes.

cloud watch: it has finally stopped raining, but i’m not holding my breath.

—

_dear diary,_

Phil kissed me.

—

_dear diary,_

Phil drove us to get chips at lunchtime, and then we just ended up sitting there for the rest of the day. I can’t believe I skipped fifth period Maths, I feel slightly ill. It’s fine though, because I think we’re okay. Phil apologised, again, and I apologised, again, and I admitted that I thought I was embarrassing him. He threw a chip at me, and then rolled his eyes as he ate his chicken burger. Romance is not dead.

When he dropped me off at his house, Phil gave me another one of his bracelets, and asked if he could kindly swap it for his other leather jacket. I took the bracelet and waved, and then closed the door.

I think we’re going to be okay.

cloud watch: it’s just starting to rain, so phil will be getting wet on his way home. oops.

—

_dear diary,_

Dan, literally shut up. Your seventeen-year-old self was a twat. Why are you so angsty? You wrote about the most boring things as if they were life-changing, and this entire book is basically filled with stuff about Phil. When I found it last night, I asked him if he remembered it, and he just burst out laughing. That’s how lame you are, past self. Very lame indeed. I can’t believe he actually stuck around for you.

In case time travel ever works, here’s an update from five years into the future: you still wear bracelets, Phil still wears too much eyeliner, and you’re living together. Phil’s still an idiot, and you haven’t had a black eye in six months - well done! You melodramatic nerd.

cloud watch: it’s still fucking raining.

**Author's Note:**

> i saw a pair of cloud-print converse a while ago and ever since, i’m obsessed with pastel!dan wearing them. they make an appearance in every fic. in totally unrelated news, my cloud-print converse arrived the day before i posted this on tumblr.
> 
> hope you enjoyed this fic! as i was writing it, i realised it was pretty inspired by adrian mole, and if i can achieve 1/100 of the brilliance of those books, i’ll consider things a success.


End file.
